Ship of Dreams
by MoonInScorpio
Summary: Laura Hardy's memories help her cope with her anxiety when one of her sons is injured. Originally written for a story contest.


Dr. Adam Quinn stood in the doorway of the waiting room watching the petite blonde woman who sat quietly on the couch reading a magazine. A cup of tea sat forgotten on the small table beside her. She seemed oblivious to the hurried footsteps of the hospital staff as they bustled around the ward seeing to the needs of their patients.

He'd known Laura Hardy since the day that the new mother had brought her infant son to the family practice he shared with his wife. In the years since that first visit he'd gotten to know the entire family. He'd dealt with the childhood illnesses of both her sons and when the boys reached their teens their sports injuries as well. Then once they started solving mysteries, the injuries began to be more serious and he began seeing them more often than he wanted to. He sighed and ran his fingers through his salt and pepper hair preparing himself for what had become a much too frequent conversation.

She looked up as he stepped forward and crouched down in front of her. "Laura," he reached out and gave her hand a squeeze. "He's still a bit restless but the antibiotics are working. He's responding well to treatment."

She smiled warmly, her fingers tightening on his. "May I go in and see him again, maybe spend the night in his room."

"No!" He said firmly and when her face fell, he added, "you need to go home and get a good night's sleep."

"I can rest here," she assured him.

"Not properly," he smiled ruefully, "neither of your boys are what we'd call good patients. If you're going to help keep Frank entertained, you'll need to be at your best."

"I can't argue with that." She said, a hint of her smile returning as she picked up her purse and got to her feet.

"I know," he glanced back at the door. "Did Fenton and Joe go down to the cafeteria?"

"No, Ezra Collig came by with a solid lead and they went with him to make the arrest."

"They know who's responsible then?"

"Yes. Fenton's partner and the police have been working on the case while we waited for word on Frank." She met his understanding eyes and continued, "once you told us Frank would be okay they focused on catching the bas, bad guys."

He grinned as she corrected herself, "go home, Laura, visiting hours start at ten tomorrow."

"Thanks for everything, Adam." She threw him a wistful glance through her lashes, "may I just look in on him for a couple of minutes?"

"You do puppy dog eyes better than Joe does but the answer is still no," he responded with the easy familiarity of a long acquaintance.

"I'll see you tomorrow," she sighed and turned toward the elevator

Laura pulled into the driveway wishing that the house wasn't empty, but Gertrude was on a cruise and she didn't expect Fenton and Joe to be home for hours. She got out of the car and let herself in through the back door. She punched in the alarm code then locked the door behind her and reset the alarm. She kicked off her shoes and set her purse down in the hall as she made her way wearily up the stairs to her bedroom.

She opened her lingerie drawer and pulled out her favorite white cotton nightgown with battenburg lace at the shoulders and neckline. She went into the bathroom and washed off the remnants of her makeup taking comfort in the familiar routine of cleansing and moisturizing her face.

She returned to the bedroom, settled into bed and turned off the lamp. She found herself tossing restlessly unable to quiet her chaotic thoughts. She looked over at the bedside clock, almost an hour had elapsed since she'd gone to bed and she was no closer to sleep than she had been when she first lay down.

"This is ridiculous," she spoke the words aloud to the empty room as she sat up. She turned the lamp back on and stood up, pulling on the robe that matched her nightgown as she walked down the hall toward Frank's bedroom.

She flipped the light switch as she entered the room smiling as always at the way her son's rooms reflected their personalities. Frank's room was always uncluttered and tidy while Joe's usually looked like something had exploded; despite that Joe could locate things as easily as his brother did. Their wildly differing approaches to filing made Laura pity whoever wound up being hired as the office manager when they opened the detective agency of their dreams.

She wandered across to the window and looked down at the trellis that Frank thought she didn't know he climbed to sneak in and out of the house. She turned back to the room and smiled wistfully at the top shelf of Frank's bookcase. She strode purposefully to the bookcase and reached up; carefully lifting the music box from its place of honor amongst sports trophies and academic awards.

She blinked back tears as she pulled it towards her, smiling at the memories it brought back. She remembered unwrapping it for the first time when she'd been pregnant with Frank. It had been a gift from Gertrude who'd said the baby would need a way to voyage to dreamland. She fingered the resin base that was shaped like a book, opened to the middle with a world map printed on the exposed pages. In the center of the base was a graceful three masted schooner that swayed to the music when it was turned on. At the front edge a ship's captain looked though a spyglass and a youth perched on a chest that sat on a pile of treasure.

She had put the music box on a shelf in the nursery and almost forgotten about it until one night when Frank had been particularly fussy during a power outage and in desperation she had taken it down and switched it on. The combination of the music and being rocked had calmed him and he had fallen asleep almost immediately. After that the music box had become her secret weapon, the soft music and the movement of the figures on the base never failed to fascinate and calm her son. She had gotten into the habit of playing the music box at naptime and before putting him to bed. Eventually Frank had started to demand that she play it before reading him a story as well.

She grinned as she remembered a 16-month old Frank's outrage when Fenton had suggested that perhaps he should give his music box to the new baby. "No! Mine!" she could almost hear him yelling the words as Fenton tried to argue with him. That had been the last time that Fenton claimed his first-born son didn't have a temper. Gertrude had come in then and announced that there was no reason the boys should have to share; she would buy Joe a music box of his own. She'd taken Frank shopping and had him help her pick out the musical train that charmed Joe but was never as important to him as the open book was to Frank. The music box was destined to remain the one thing he had absolutely refused to ever share with his younger brother. Four years later she'd been afraid it would cause permanent damage to her boys' relationship.

She shuddered at the memory of entering Frank's room to find a four-year old Joey standing on the stool he'd dragged from the bathroom and put on the rocking chair, so he could reach the shelf that Frank's music box was kept on. She'd rushed forward and managed to catch him just as his weight caused the chair to over balance and tip. She hadn't given a thought to the music box that he'd managed to get one hand on and barely noticed when it hit the floor and smashed. Her terror had given way to rage when she realized that he was unhurt. Joey's had been unfazed by his near fall and smiled while he explained that he'd chosen to climb on the rocking chair because he'd thought it's motion would make it easier to reach the shelf. She had just sent Joey to his room for a time out knowing that she needed a few moments to calm down before speaking to him. That was when Frank had come running into his room to find out what the noise was. All Frank had seen was his beloved music box in pieces and his anguished wails had brought Joey back to see what was wrong. Gertrude who'd been only a few steps behind Frank had wrapped her arms around him and assured him that Mommy would have it fixed by tomorrow. Laura could still remember how annoyed she'd been with her sister-in-law for saying that. She'd taken a distraught Joey back to his room and calmed him down while Gertrude and Frank carefully gathered up all the pieces. Laura had returned to Frank's room where his tear stained face combined with his faith that she could repair the music box had all but broken her heart. She'd gently suggested he needed some quiet time and settled him down with some of his favorite books. Once she was certain that both her sons were calmed, she'd gone downstairs to deal with Gertrude.

She'd found her in the kitchen making tea. Without a word, Gertrude had pointed to the cardboard box sitting on the table and when Laura opened it and removed the packing; she found a music box identical to the one that had just been broken. Gertrude had quietly explained that since the baby had loved it so much she'd bought a second one in case something like this happened. Laura had been relieved and decided not to mention the substitution. Frank was slow to anger but he tended to hold grudges and she'd had time to start worrying about that. The next morning she'd given Frank the music box and once he had seen that it was in perfect condition he'd accepted both Joey's apology and his solemn promise to never touch anything of Frank's without permission again. Laura hadn't thought that promise would last but Frank's devastation had made a powerful impression on his brother, so it did.

Frank's love for the music box had been one of the things that convinced Laura to enroll her sons in the piano lessons that were taught by a neighbor. Joe continued with the piano but after Fenton started reading Sherlock Holmes stories to the boys, Frank had insisted he'd rather play the violin. Choices that reflected their preferences she thought. Frank had been willing to devote time to daily practice, but Joe was less diligent in that respect. Performance was the aspect that Joe loved; he didn't care who his audience was just as long as he had one. The piano on the main floor guaranteed Joe his audience while Frank could take his violin and retreat from the world when he needed to.

Once Frank started school the music box had been relegated to a storage box on the upper shelf in his closet except in times of crisis. Laura remembered walking past Frank's closed door and hearing either the familiar tune or the sound of Frank's violin. She'd learned that when the music stopped was the best time to get her often reticent son to open up and talk about whatever was bothering him.

She raised her hand and wiped away the tears that started to fall. Frank had been eleven when the symptoms started, nosebleeds and inexplicable bruising. She and Fenton had been shocked when Dr. Quinn told them that their son had leukemia. The months following the diagnosis had been difficult for the entire family and often during treatment the boys had been denied each other's company. Somehow the music box had become one of the ways they maintained their connection with each other. She would take it with her when she visited Frank in the hospital and it worked to sooth him just as it had when he was an infant. Then she'd take it home where Joe was desperately missing his brother and crying himself to sleep; and she'd play it to comfort him as well.

She reached to the back of the base, switched on the music box and listened to the slightly tinny music. She let it play as she walked back to her own bedroom and set it on her nightstand. She casually tossed her robe across the foot of the bed and climbed beneath the covers. She yawned and let herself drift off to sleep as the music wound down.

It was almost half an hour later than she meant to arrive when Laura hurried up the front steps of the hospital, clutching the handles of the canvas tote bag. She walked quickly to the bank of elevators and pushed the button for the third floor. She stepped out and waved a greeting to the nurse at desk as she continued down the hallway to her son's room. She opened the door carefully and peeked in. She was delighted to see all three of her boys. Fenton and Joe turned to look when the door opened. They both smiled and stood up when they saw her.

She smiled warmly at her son and hugged her husband but most of her attention was focused on the youth in the bed.

"Have you talked to Dr. Quinn?" she asked in a hushed voice

"He was leaving when we got here," Fenton answered just as quietly. "He said Frank should be waking up soon."

Laura nodded, "did you catch them?"

"Yeah, we did," her son assured her. "When I called the hospital, they told me I wouldn't be able to see Frank until visiting hours started today so I stayed at the station with Dad and watched the interrogation."

"I should have called," Fenton apologized and dropped a light kiss onto her hair.

"I wasn't worried. I knew Ezra had the entire Bayport PD there and you wouldn't let Joe out of your sight." She rose up onto her toes and he bent his head to meet her lips.

"I think Frank's waking up," remarked Joe, with a smug smirk as they sprang apart and turned to the bed where their older son had not stirred.

Both his parents glared at him in mock outrage. Laura walked closer to the bed and set the bag she was carrying on the table beside the water jug. She lifted out the music box that had always been so important to Frank and carefully wound it before setting it back down and turning it on. The tinny music filled the hospital room just as Frank's eyelids fluttered open. He blinked a few times and a faint smile curved his lips when he saw the small resin ship slowly moving in time to the music.

"Morning sunshine," said Laura as she bent down to kiss his cheek.

"Mom," he reached out and took her hand, "have I been sick enough to need my ship of dreams?"

"Not really," she smiled as she sat on the edge of the bed. "I just thought you might be glad to see it."


End file.
